A grandmother and her peek-a-boo grandson

Having a positive family during your ups and downs in life is a big deal that most of us either take for granted or don't have at all.

In foreign countries like Korea, families cling together out of support and seldom separate from their children the way that separation is seen in America.

According to the non-political organization known as Asia Society, “Koreans adhere to traditional Confucian principles of family organization. Confucius (6th century B.C.) and his followers taught that only a country where family life was harmonious could be peaceful and prosperous.”

“A man should never neglect his family for business.” - Walt Disney

Life is not always glory filled

Between dirty roach infested motels, battling cancer and life – some people do not choose the course they are on. Circumstances place them there.

Imagine battling an illness that is winning and sometimes sleeping on a bed and other times, sleeping on the street. That is life for many that we overlook.

“When you hear the word 'cancer,' it's as if someone took the game of Life and tossed it in the air. All the pieces go flying. The pieces land on a new board. Everything has shifted. You don't know where to start.” - Regina Brett (American Author)

My personal space has been invaded

When I take a photo, I sometimes like to get as close as possible. I know this is weird, but I sometimes feel that when I am in someone’s personal space, they tend to open up more.

If you have been to other countries, you probably know that many people around the world don’t know the limits of personal space. However, in many countries families strive to depend on one another in a way that you don’t see in many cities around the United States. You could literally be on top of someone in line in Haiti, Mexico or even parts of Puerto Rico (US) and the native will not flinch. But here, why do we feel so strongly about personal space and what is that magic divide of that uncomfortable line that we don’t want people to cross?

Do we draw so many boundaries because we like and desire to be alone in this world? Audrey Hepburn told LIFE Magazine in 1953, “I have to be alone very often. I'd be quite happy if I spent from Saturday night until Monday morning alone in my apartment. That's how I refuel."

Or perhaps C.S. Lewis had it correct, “We live, in fact, in a world starved for solitude, silence, and private: and therefore starved for meditation and true friendship.” In this case, I believe Lewis was suggesting meditation as meaning our spoken word to express our thoughts. I could be wrong, but it is just a thought. We fail to express our thoughts to others, I am guilty of this often. I listen more than I talk on many occasions.

All of that being said, when you step into someone’s personal space in America with a smile on your face or a question… the stories can often be amazing and troubling at the same time. In reality, I think people crave for their walls to be broken and personal spaces to be destroyed.

Is that crazy sounding? Well, I am a little weird – I guess.

Photo taken in Nashville, Tennessee. I stepped into her personal space and instead of backing away from my camera lens, she smiled.

Tell everyone I am blessed

“Mr. Scott, tell everyone I am doing good and the Lord blessed me,” he said. “I have a job,” he told me on the phone.

You may recall the photo I took of Daniel about one week ago. He was the man we found living on a bench behind the Department of Human Services office in downtown Nashville. He is now living in a motel and calls it his very own apartment. He paid for it with his disability money, which he will have enough to cover a total of two weeks. His new job means his first paycheck will land in his account in exactly two weeks, which should cover the cost of another two weeks at the motel.

When I visited him on Sunday, a few friends and I bought him a grocery cart full of food that we let him pick out. Aisle by aisle he said, “I’ll get whatever you think I should have – I’m just so thankful because no one has ever done this for me before.” We wanted to make sure that he smelled good for his new job too, so we were sure to buy deodorant, aftershave, shampoo and a razor and shaving cream.

Before leaving the store we bought bread, sandwich meat and condiments for a homeless man sitting on the curb in front of the grocery store. I said, “Daniel, this is for him [pointing while holding the bag up] – you give it to him.” Daniel walked it over and shook the man’s hand and smiled from ear to ear. “How did that feel,” I asked? “Oh, it felt great – just blessing others because I have blessings,” he said with confidence.

What you don’t know about Daniel is quite intense. At age 10 he was raped by a male family member. He still battles with the thoughts of that happening today. That family member was never arrested nor investigated, according to Daniel. He was also raped as an adult when he was in his thirties multiple times. His mother, whom he lived with, then died and he was on the streets from that point on. While in his forties and living on the streets he was attacked not only inside the Nashville Rescue Mission, but also on the streets of Davidson County.

As a child, Daniel spent his days in special education classes. His I.Q. is 65. According to the American Association on Mental Retardation, Daniel would be classified as having a mild mental retardation. The organization claims that he can acquire academic skills up to a 6th grade level and in some cases live independently with community and social support. However, he lacks both.

The question now: Can someone help Daniel find counseling services in Nashville at no cost? He is currently receiving help through a state contracted counseling office, but that has proved to be an utter failure for Daniel. He needs serious therapy as he also battles schizophrenia and bi-polar disorder. Daniel told me he has been without his medication for two months. He will be seeing his regular doctor this week to get back on the needed medications, but counseling to deal with the rapes is priority.

He got an apartment

It was around April of this year that I was visiting a boarded up hotel in Nashville that was shut down in 2012 by order of the city due to it being a public nuisance. Prostitution, drug sales and out of hand parties were just a few of the problems that had occurred in the past at the Harding Road Inn. After it was shut down, about 30 homeless in the area took advantage of the shelter and made it their home.

While at the hotel in April, my friend Jason Bennett said to me that we needed to call his friend Ingrid McIntyre to see if we can get some of these folks off the street and into a real apartment of their own. Knowing that we were battling addiction and mental illness in the hotel, I knew it was a tall order to get all of them off the street. However, Jason was not going to let the idea of only some wanting their own place stop him from at least trying.

One of the many folks living in the hotel was a man named Tony whom I first met in 2013. I knew that he had multiple health problems, so I concentrated on simply walking with him on his journey to a better life. His story started many years ago as a child when his father took him out of school so that he could help with the home business in the hills of East Tennessee. That family business… moonshine.

Tony, who cannot read or write, told me that he remembers his childhood a little differently than most of us. As a 10-year old he would carry bags of sugar across rivers that were waist high and then up the side of what looked to be a mountain at his age. That sugar was being delivered to his father who was hidden deep in the woods making his homemade moonshine that would later be sold to folks in nearby cities.

Later in life Tony’s father passed away and he found himself in the construction trade. He got married to the love of his life and he lived a normal life, despite his childhood being out of the norm. His wife was later diagnosed with cancer after about ten or so years of marriage. She eventually died and Tony emotionally fell apart. His drinking went from weekly to daily and eventually hourly. He told me how much he loved her and how empty he felt without her. Years passed by and Tony found himself on the streets of Nashville living in a wooded area, then a boarded up hotel and eventually behind a gas station after the hotel caught fire. No tent, no change of clothing and no money. His only valuable possession was a food stamp card and the owner of the Shell Gas Station on Harding Road whom helped him stay afloat. The owners of the gas station allowed him to sleep on a concrete pad behind the store and always checked on him or called for help if he needed to be hospitalized due to his ongoing health issues.

His story is not over yet as he just got into his brand new apartment thanks to the help of Ingrid McIntyre, Lauren Plummer and Open Table Nashville. While he only has a bed and a chair, he told me that when he looked out HIS window and saw the rain the other day, he thanked God that he was not in it. Tony, who is 58, is taking life day by day as he ends his drinking and aims to become healthier.

Going back to the Harding Inn, it is now empty. An arsonist with a grudge against some of the residents burned those who were left out. Only a portion of the hotel stands today. By the way that arsonist, also a resident in the hotel, was tracked down within minutes of police arrival the day the fire broke out. It did not take officers long to locate the man because he had monitoring device strapped to his ankle as he was a convicted sex offender.

We take teeth for granted

Her father died of cancer in 1994. About three years later, her mother died.

Heather basically became homeless on the night of her high school prom, the night that was supposed to be one the most memorable became one of the most unbearable. During the night of her prom, her mother took her very last breath due to cancer – just three years after her father died of the same disease. From that night on, she had few places to go.

She later got married and eventually had a daughter. Her husband proved to be abusive knocking her teeth out so the relationship came to a close.

When I met Heather near a wooded area that she calls home today, she told me that teeth would give her self-esteem and confidence as she tries to rebuild.

I turned to Dr. Jess Sinquefield who has helped others who were homeless in the past. Knowing this would be an expensive undertaking for the staff atSinquefield Family Dentistry, I was unsure as to what his reaction would be when I asked if he could help Heather.

I was excited when Dr. Sinquefield told me that he would be happy to help Heather and expect nothing in return, not even a penny.

Heather just turned 38 and today she has a new job, a new found confidence and a smile that beams from ear to ear. Her teeth are as white as snow and she is excited about life, despite where she lives today.

Her next goal is aimed at getting an apartment and her daughter back. She also has dreams of going back to school and becoming a nurse. She told me that she also loves animals so may consider going into the field of veterinary practices. Regardless of what she picks, she will be helping others.

I have to say that despite of her living situation, I have seen her with her daughter and she is one of the best mothers I have ever seen. Heather's daughter is extremely well mannered, kind and loving. I am excited for the next chapter in her life.

The late Dr. Stephen Covey once stated, "Do not tie yourself to your past; tie yourself to your potential."

Human skulls in Haiti

Voodoo grounds outnumber viable church grounds by a huge percentage in Haiti. Voodoo is the religion of the majority in Haiti and it is taken very seriously. My son and I found these human skulls on a voodoo ground that was located behind a school and 100 yards from a Christian church. Of course, most church members never venture onto the Voodoo grounds fearing evil spirits.

A man by the name of Bob Corbett wrote after extensive studies in Haiti in 1998:

The priesthood of Voodoo contains both men (houngan) and women (mambo). Their functions are: healing, to perform religious ceremonies to call or pacify the spirits, to hold initiations for new priests, telling the future and reading dreams, casting spells and creating protections, creating potions for various purposes which include love spells, healing spells and even death spells.

Dreaming of an education

I saw him sitting on a bench across the river from the Titans stadium in Nashville. That bench was also his bed for the night. The young man with high hopes told me that he last lived in Chattanooga before he was released from a hospital in Hamilton County, Tennessee. “I’m 18, but will soon turn 19,” he told me.

His clothes were dirty, as if he had not changed in a week or longer. His fingernails appeared as if he had dug a hole in the dirt, his hair wiry and wind blown. His beard untrimmed.

On a folded up sheet of notebook paper he keeps a list of college degrees that he would like to pursue one day. “I heard there was something new in Tennessee that allows people to go to college for free,” he told me. He then handed me the well-used sheet of paper while stating, “Whenever I come across something that interest me, I write it down.”

I started to read the list of about 30 potential college degrees aloud so he could hear them. I got to the word “Navigation” and paused. “What’s this one,” I asked? He then got wide eyed and smiled. “Navigation – land, sea or air – so I can travel the world,” he told me. I said, “You know, MTSU in Murfreesboro has one of the most well-known programs in the country that focuses on Aerospace technology and flight.” “M-T-S-U,” he said in a puzzling way as if his wheels were turning on figuring out what he needed to do to apply.

“Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self-confidence.” - Robert Frost

A new backpack and socks

His name is Gary. I met him outside of my office one afternoon and talked to him for a while.

“I’m homeless, but I am staying with relatives,” he told me. “But, I don’t have a blanket,” he said with a smile as if it didn’t really bother him. He then told me that he only has one pair of socks, that bothered me more than it bothered him.

“I’m gonna’ get a job - I’m looking,” he explained as he told me he was disabled. “I just want a few hours so that I can get my own place,” he said. I could not help but to notice that his backpack was also ripped and falling off his back.

Today, thanks to an unnamed friend, I gave him a new backpack, a new queen size soft blanket, a pair of gloves and a pack of new socks.

Horace Mann, an American politician and educational reformer from the 1800’s once stated, “Doing nothing for others is the undoing of ourselves.”

Trains and Homeless Camps

The train blew past at breakneck speed, bringing to mind the fact that many of our nation's homeless are encamped within mere feet of eminent danger. The wind generated by the passing of the massive cars filled the covering of a nearby tent causing it to billow and jerk. Some of the boxcars were stacked two high, barely clearing the height of the bridge leaving only about 2-feet to escape peril.

About a week ago at this very location a young homeless man, named Austin, was struck and killed by a freight train as it barreled through the underpass he called home. The 27-year old was wearing headphones and apparently didn't  hear the racing, steel giant closing in on him. The train was Florida bound when it struck the him at 7:00 Sunday morning (10/18/15).

Why, I wondered, would so many homeless choose such a dangerous locale to set up camp? Then it occurred to me...we push them to the fringes. For much of the housed population, misinformation, prejudice, and fear of the homeless has caused them to be viewed as dangerous and undesirable by default. In Nashville, Tennessee this overarching view has led city council members and government officials to push many homeless off of city or state land, sighting that their presence was a public nuisance and endangerment to the average citizen. Such a lack of empathy in decision making forces the homeless to seek other less noticeable places, spaces unsuitable for development...like those next to railroad tracks.

A Special Memorial Service

The memorial service for Austin Sienk, the 27 year old homeless man from Utah who was struck by a train in Murfreesboro was held Saturday morning. It was held under a bridge where he lived. Those who called the bridge home had positive things to say while some broke down in tears. It was a sad, yet positive event that took place.

Sienk was struck and killed by a CSX freight train around 7 o'clock this past Sunday morning (10/18/2015). The man was said to have been wearing headphones while walking down the tracks near South Church Street, close to Middle Tennessee Boulevard. The train was heading south to Florida.

Music changes people

Someone gave me a guitar to specifically give to a homeless person. I love that.

Today I met Tyler. One hand was tattooed “LOVE” and the second read “HATE.” I don’t know the reasoning behind his tattoos, nor did I ask. Traditionally, the words love and hate are a reminder of how thinly balanced life can be. Most, if not all of us, have an ongoing struggle between good and evil. After all, we are all sinners – despite the good we may do in life we will always fall short.

Tyler will turn 21 on Thursday and he told me how he has a love for music, “I play the trombone, the drums and the guitar – I got my first guitar when I was 7.” I asked, “Did you teach yourself how to play all of that?” He smiled, “I did, I was even in the band and while I could not read music, I did just as good.”

Tyler has lived in Ashland City, Nashville and now Murfreesboro. I am not real sure where he lost his guitar, but I would imagine somewhere in between those three cities while homeless. 
As he carried the instrument to his campsite he said that he can now play when he is feeling mad or down.

The guitar that was handed to me to hand to someone else will now be used as a soothing outlet for another.

“Music can change the world because it can change people.” – Bono (U2)

Empty Places: A tour of an old club where Jimi Hendrix once played

The legendary Jimi Hendrix once wandered into a small club in Murfreesboro, Tennessee and did what he did best, played the guitar. The Eldorado Club, which was also known as Dance Land, was mainly attended by African Americans in the 1950's and 60's. It was located on Asbury Road near the Stones River Battlefield. It is now just a shell as the roof has fallen in and growth has taken over the building and the surrounding land.

I walked through the building with 75-year old saxophonist Raymond Summerour who once played in the club with his band called The Dukes. Summerour told me he came to Murfreesboro in 1960 and his band played at the club on Friday and Saturday nights, sometimes up until 4 AM. He told me that he remembers the day Hendrix walked in like it was yesterday.

“When Jimmy walked in we didn’t know who he was,” he told me. He said he singled to him that he wanted to sit on the stage and play along. Summerour invited him on up and stated,  “When Jimmy unleashed, he got up on the stage and we were just playing regular rock n’ roll, we didn’t play the stuff that Jimmy played before he died, that hard rock type stuff, but Jimmy got up there and man let me tell you - - when he unleashed he really got down on that guitar. He was playing with his teeth, he was playing with that guitar behind his head and the crowd just went wild.”

At the time, Hendrix was in the U.S. Army. He was stationed in Clarksville, Tennessee and part of the 101st Airborne Division in 1962.

Summerour mentioned a few more names that visited the club in the 1960’s. He told me that Ike and Tina Turner were there, William Bell, Bobby Marchan and Jerry Butler all visited the club. The famous blues musician who died in 1965 known as Sonny Boy Williamson also played at the club once in Murfreesboro.

Today, the club sits in ruins on a small county road. No one would ever suspect it is where history was made. 

"Music doesn't lie. If there is something to be changed in this world, then it can only happen through music."  - Jimi Hendrix

Not the face of homelessness, but homeless

This may open your eyes: It was a bright sunshiny day in Murfreesboro... Erica's brown hair streaked with gray lines was blowing in the wind as she described her troubled past and her current reality of being homeless to me.

However, her homeless situation is not that of her living under a bridge, nor is it of her feeling sorry for herself. She writes as a form of therapy. That being said, I asked that she write what I post under her photograph.

From Erica:

Mine is not the face of homelessness. 
Neither are the faces of my children. 
This is what I'd like to believe. 
But according to the state of Tennessee -- and my children's school systems -- it's not the truth.

Because we -- my 16 yo son, 13 yo daughter, & my 7 yo daughter, along with our 3 cats -- reside with my parents (& my brother and his boxer), where we've been since July... six months after our world flipped upside down.

I'd like to share the details but I can't. 
I have to protect my children. 
They are my heart. 
They are the reason I do everything I do. 
And they know it. 
I'm so grateful they know it.

In January 2015, I learned that my husband of 17 years had been making destructive choices. Choices that ruined our marriage and broke our family. Choices that destroyed life as I'd known it. Hopes and dreams, plans and expectations were dashed.

I moved in with my parents because it was the safest place for us. Other options given to me didn't offer the emotional, mental, financial security we needed. Squeezing 4 adults, 3 children, and 4 pets into a 3 br home is not ideal but we're making it work. It helps to know it's temporary. How temporary is still a mystery though.

I trust God has a place of our own in mind and when He deems the time to be perfect, He will provide it. Until then, I'll continue to work and we'll continue to live where we are... in stability and the beginning of healing. All four of us will continue our weekly therapy sessions; soon, we'll begin family counseling too. Our counselors are amazing. We are healing, step-by-tiny-step.

Until this year, I'd always been the lady with the heart to help others. I'd volunteered for ESTN and DOH. I'd donated clothing and toys to Club YES- Youth Empowerment Services. I'd given food to Greenhouse Ministries. I'd prayed for The Journey Home, Murfreesboro. I never imagined myself or my children needing to utilize some of the services these (& other) Middle TN/ Rutherford/ Murfreesboro organizations offered.

But here we are. 
In between who we once were
And who we will become.

If you didn't know me... if you didn't see my picture or read this story... you'd never know that this face is simply a different kind of homeless.

One who somehow, in some way, will continue to move forward step-by-step with the help of others.

One who someday will be strong enough to hold another's hand, helping her to see her truth and walk forward in health and healing.

I look forward to that day.

Heroin in a U.S. Veteran

He grasped my shoulder as he made his way down his front steps. He is usually in a wheelchair, but he wanted to walk outside on his own two feet. “I was once shot five times,” he told me as he pulled up his shirt to show me the scars.

We continued to talk and he continued to share stories about his past. “I was a heroin addict, but have been clean for a long time,” he said while rolling up his sleeves, “I have HIV from shooting up in the past.” 

He said that he was once ashamed of the fact that he has HIV, but now he does not mind sharing what was once painful because now it is simply a part of life that he has lived with since 1994.

I later realized that he served our country in combat while in the U.S. Army. I was standing before an aging Vietnam Veteran who shares a small apartment with several others. He came home from the foreign land with images that were likely unshakable which may have contributed to his past battle on U.S. soil with alcohol and Heroin. But, that battle is mostly behind him. Today, he battles balance, sight and age.

Pax Prentiss who opened Passages, a rehab center in Malibu, once wrote in the The Alcoholism and Addiction Cure, “Heroin was a coping mechanism that I had used to deal with my underlying fears. They were the real problems; heroin wasn't the culprit, my fears were.”

Visiting a bar in Nashville is not for everyone

“We drove down from Kentucky to see a family member sing at this bar in Nashville [pointing at the bar],” he told me. He hesitated, but added, “Some family members didn’t want to come because they serve beer there [slight laugh].”

I shot this with my 35mm lens on a Fuji XT1. 

Help is around the corner

His face was blistered and peeling, likely from being in the sun daily. His hair was thin and white as snow with a few spots of dark silver. His tired eyes looked as if they have seen a lifetime of trouble, sorrow and pain.

His name is Brian and he is a Vietnam Veteran who is currently homeless on the streets of Nashville. His ongoing problem continues to be alcohol, but it looks as if he may have help.

Thanks to a short talk, he is eager to get sober and change his life. That sobriety started Monday afternoon in a hospital. 

Not alone in this crazy world

It was a cold night Sunday, with the temperatures dipping to 40-degrees. A slight wind swirled it's way through the maze of downtown Nashville buildings, making it feel more like 30. As I walked up Broadway from the river I came upon a woman seated on the ground, her husband parked in a wheelchair to her left. He sat quietly, a blanket in his lap, struggling to extend his hand in an attempt to sell newspapers to passing pedestrians. 

Grinning, he told me his name, "John Ross, but everyone calls me Johnny Pops. I’m 68." I laughed and told him I didn't believe him. He whipped out his driver’s license as proof of his 1947 birth. I smiled as his wife began to tell the story of how they became homeless. 

“We were living in a motel on Dickerson Road. I worked as a cleaning lady for the property in exchange for a room, but they fired me because they said I was too old to work for them.” she said, looking down at the sidewalk. We discussed the illegality of age discrimination in the workplace, but she was far more eager to get on with her life than to hold a grudge. 

I asked where they were currently living. “We live on the bench of the bus stop down the street.” said Johnny Pops. When I asked which one (because I wanted to bring them a couple of sleeping bags to supplement their lightweight  blankets) he got a huge grin on his face and said, laughingly "The one with the white columns, white picket fence and big front porch!” I love it when people have a sense of humor, despite their life's circumstances. 

This husband and wife team aren't at the bottom to stay. They told me they've been saving their money with a goal in mind. “We have an opportunity to live on a farm in Indiana and we're saving everything we make for that move.” Mrs. Ross said hopefully.

The late Robin Williams once stated, “The worst thing in life is not to end up all alone. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone.” I think Johnny “Pops” Ross understands that greater things are yet to come and he has Mrs. Ross by his side to remind him that he's never alone. Together, no matter where they live, they have each other. 

My Vietnam Ring

As I walked into his apartment that he shares with several others I noticed it was cluttered with clothing, food boxes and more. He smiled as I walked in. His hands appeared to be sore with arthritis, his body failing on him quicker than his mind. "I have a caretaker who watches after me," he was quick to say adding, "She is wonderful."

He held up his hands, “Take a picture of my rings,” he told me. As I slowly pushed the shutter closed he told me that one is for his tour in Vietnam and the second is his U.S. Army ring. “I love these,” he said with a grin.

Those very same hands and fingers likely grasped the American M16 Rifle, a gun that was prone to jamming on our troops. I wonder how many times he had to clear it in the midst of enemy fire? I did not want to ask those questions, but my imagination ran wild with thoughts of what those hands have been through. The sounds of bullet fire as he crawled on the ground or through rice fields.

He survived.

U.S. Army General William Westmoreland commanded U.S. forces during the Vietnam War. He once stated, “I do not believe that the men who served in uniform in Vietnam have been given the credit they deserve. It was a difficult war against an unorthodox enemy.”

The rings that some Vietnam Veterans wear were not given to them by the military, but instead purchased by the Veterans who posses them. Many wear them as a reminder of the life they have today, verses the life they survived so many years ago. Others wear the rings to remind them of the friends they lost or the friends that saved their life only to be delivered back to the United States in a flag draped coffin. Sadly, the government did little to thank so many who went through so much and continue to have their own battles today.

Heroin addiction and recovery, then a miscarriage

I met with Stacy, a former Heroin addict yesterday and heard her story. I have known her for the past year and have had the pleasure of bringing her food from time to time and listening to her boyfriend pray over me in thanks for the food provided by Feed America First. 

“I remember the withdrawals,” she told me. “I could not get out of bed, I felt so sick until my friend brought me that needle,” her comments continued in describing Heroin. I asked, “Did you ever fear needles?” She told me that prior to her using on a regular basis she watched some of her friends use and said that she could not imagine using as much as they did. Before long, she was using Heroin just as much if not more. 

The Heroin use left her feeling sick when she was not on it to feeling perfect when she injected the chemicals from inside the needle. She was twisted in emotions and pain as she shot Heroin on a regular basis multiple times a day. From the time the drug entered her veins to the time it followed the twisted red rivers like a fish swimming to her brain, the pleasures were overwhelming yet short lived. 

When Heroin is used it makes the skin feel warm as it goes into the brain and gives Stacy a rush of intense pleasure. Her arms and legs would likely have felt heavy as the drug starts to work, her mouth dry. After the initial feeling wore off, it leaves you slightly nauseated and tired, sometimes itchy for several hours. Her mental state would have been clouded leaving her vulnerable to the elements of other drug abusers around her. Breathing and heart rate are slowed as the high turns into pain. But, the initial altering of emotions kept her coming back, along with the strong addiction that is tough to overcome without the use of medical care and medication. 

Today she is clean, but her struggles continue. About three days ago she had a miscarriage and is facing the aftermath of losing a child and the medical aftermath of that happening. But, she is living on the streets as opposed to recovering in a home and in a bed. In fact, all she has is a sleeping bag and a boyfriend to comfort her. 

As our talks continued she told me about the day she got clean from Heroin. Her mother was dying of cancer in Kentucky and insisted that she get help. Her mother said, “You are not going to die before I do, we are getting you help.” Her mom took her to get treatment and she was eventually prescribed Suboxone. 

According to one website, “Suboxone contains a combination of buprenorphine and naloxone. Buprenorphine is an opioid medication. An opioid is sometimes called a narcotic. Naloxone blocks the effects of opioid medication, including pain relief or feelings of well-being that can lead to opioid abuse. Suboxone is used to treat narcotic (opiate) addiction.” 

The battles continued for Stacy when she dropped her tortured romance with Heroin, but this time with a prescription medication intended for her to drop Heroin. It worked, but now she was addicted to another drug. She told me that while Heroin may be worse, it took her even longer to get off of Suboxone. 

Today she is clean, but living on the streets. She hopes to soon be approved for an apartment using her boyfriends voucher. Together, they will be able to slowly start over and build a new life off the streets. 

Stacy told me she would love to share her story with parents in our community and does not care about her appearance of being homeless – just as long as she can tell others about Heroin. If you would like her to speak before your church small group or family, let me know and we will make it happen. You allowing her to do that will be a huge step in her journey of rebuilding and healing.